Loss of Parental Care
by Melethril
Summary: Sixth year: Harry finds a crying first year in the corner. If there is one thing in the world that he understands, it is the feeling of having lost his parents. He tries to help.


Disclaimer: This is fanfiction: I'm a fan and this is fiction. I have never, do not and will never own anything concerning Harry Potter and that amazing world J.K. Rolling created for us. Characters that do not belong to the Harry-Potter-world are entirely fictional and all resemblance to real people is unintended

**Loss of Parental Care**

Harry was quickly walking down the corridors towards the Great Hall.

He couldn't believe he was late! It was nine o'clock on Saturday morning, but Ron, Hermione and him had wanted to eat breakfast together at 8.30.

Harry sighed. He was probably the only person in the world (muggle or wizard) to be late for breakfast although having been awake for four hours. Rubbing his face he tried to shove away the tiredness that threatened to overcome him.

Ha hadn't slept very well for many weeks, ever since the fiasco at the Ministry to be exact. His pace quickened, almost trying to outrun the feeling of loss, sorrow but especially guilt. He knew it was his fault and his fault only, not Dumbledore's who had kept secrets from him, not Sirius' who only had tried to protect him, no, not even Snape's. He knew that now. It was his own arrogance and childish behaviour that had led to his godfather's death. A lump formed in his throat as he imagined Sirius' face.

Blinking rapidly, he kept walking that now bordered on running. Hermione and Ron would be worried by now.

He was walking past one of the many Hogwarts armours, when he heard a sob that caused him to stop. Looking around he saw a small girl weeping in a corner. His stomach grumbled in protest, but he couldn't just leave the child. He was late already anyway, therefore a couple of minutes more or less wouldn't make a difference.

Slowly he approached the crying girl that seemed to be a first year.

"Hey," he whispered softly, "what's up?"

The girl squeaked and almost jumped. The sixteen-year-old lifted both hands in a calming gesture, instinctively showing his palms.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said with the same low voice he had spoken with before. He'd never know it, and if he were told, he'd never believe it, but his voice was deep and rather soothing when he talked like this.

Harry saw the girl loosing a bit but not all of her tension. She was blinking at him with red, tear-filled eyes, long streaks of curly blond hair falling on her face.

"What's up?" he repeated.

"Miss 'em," she whispered, her arms wrapped around herself.

Harry felt his blood run cold. If there was one thing that he understood fully and with all his heart, it was the feeling of loss.

Dreading the answer he asked: "Whom?"

"M' parents," another sob caused the girl to breathe in while she answered, causing her words to come out almost inaudibly.

Harry heard her nevertheless and the lump in his throat threatened to steal his voice.

It wasn't fair. He knew the war had begun after the Ministry realized that he had spoken the truth all along. After the official announcement, Voldemort had no reason at all to hold back. He didn't.

Just like Hagrid had once told him about the first war, every week more news about torture and murder arrived.

Harry hadn't even been allowed to go to Diagon Ally (not that it had mattered, most of his books had already been delivered by owl-post by his order), but Ron and Hermione told him how scared everyone had been there, how pictures of Death Eaters were hanging all over the normally cheerful and magical ally.

But seeing that girl cry made him realize what this war had to be like for the young ones. Yes, he had arrived here as an orphan as well, but that had happened years ago, and as much as he missed his parents, the feelings were different. Now he understood, he understood the terrible feeling of loss, being cut off from the rest of the world, the feeling of being completely alone.

Tentatively he laid his left hand on her shoulder, desperately trying not to think of his godfather or his parents.

He knew that 'sorry' was the last word she wanted to hear. 'Sorry' was so inadequate, almost degrading. Words changed nothing, but he also knew that a consoling touch did ease the pain a tiny bit.

The girl didn't flinch, but looked at him rather surprised.

There were so many things he could say, but that were meaningless platitudes that bordered on lies: 'everything is going to be alright', 'I understand', 'they wouldn't want you to be sad' (that might be true, but it surely didn't help), 'it's okay', 'don't cry' or even worse 'just let it all out, you'll feel better afterwards'. Realizing that there was nothing he could possibly say, he stayed silent, waiting for her to speak.

His emerald green eyes met hers, attempting to console her. ^

She visibly relaxed a little bit, her shaky breath steadying.

"I just saw them last week," she whispered.

Harry felt his heart clench. Still gentle, but with a little more pressure, he held her shoulder.

"It's stupid!" her voice was rather forceful, she looked at him with a flash of anger. Harry was startled. After his tantrum in the headmaster's office – oh, he'd apologize as soon as possible – he knew that anger was a part of the grieving process, but he definitely hadn't anticipated it in an eleven year old child. He let go off her shoulder and looked at her in understanding.

"No, it's not," he said then he realized that she may have meant her parent's death, and immediately tried to explain, "I mean… Your feelings, that's normal. You feel lost, that's okay." He flinched. He had just said the very words that he himself hated to hear. _'From now on, I'll just keep my mouth shut.'_

This time, the Gryffindor wasn't taken aback by the anger that now bordered on fury that was visible in the girl's face. That was his own fault.

"It is," she said irritably, "it is stupid. It's actually pathetic. I just saw them at the train station, and now I'm sitting here crying!"

Well, that took him aback. 'Pathetic'? Grief wasn't pathetic, and even if there were people that thought of feelings as a weakness – certain red eyes came to Harry's mind, he barely suppressed a shudder – surly, the death of one's parents and the pain that came from it, wouldn't cause the girl to think of herself as pathetic?

He decided to ask: "I'm sorry," again he flinched. ,_Maybe, the idea to keep my mouth shut wasn't a bad one. But I think I misunderstood her.' _"What happened to your parents?" His voice was again low and soft.

All anger was wiped from her face, and replaced by a confused look. "Nothing, I don't understand. What do you mean?"

Harry felt his head tilt to one side. Now he was confused. He decided to be blunter than he usually was in uncertain situations: "Why are you crying?" Although, the question was blunt, the sound of his voice was unchanged.

"I," the girl swallowed, "I mean… I like Hogwarts. I really do, but… I've never been away from them… I mean, they never left me, not for more than a few days." Ashamed, she hid her head behind her long hair and mumbled, "So I shouldn't already be crying. I mean, I've already been away from them for two weeks, and it's only been a week… But, the year is so long, I don't…"

Harry just looked at her, confused at first until realization dawned. He barely managed to keep himself from slapping his forehead.

"Oh," he just said. With wet cheeks and red, teary eyes, she looked at him.

'_They are alive_,' relief washed over Harry and almost caused him to laugh. He suppressed it, knowing that the girl would misunderstand.

"Look…er... What's your name?"

"Cara. Well, Carola Zantura, to be exact. And you are?" This time, Harry had to struggle not to show two different expressions, an amused smile because she either was a muggleborn and hadn't heard of him yet or she was a wizard's child and truly had been too distressed to recognize him – not that it angered him, it was refreshing, and to be honest, a relief to know that not "every child in the wizarding world" knew his name – and he had to suppress a blush, because if she had heard of him, she'd now realize who he was.

"I'm Harry," he said, hoping that his first name wouldn't trigger any memory. But Cara wasn't as distressed anymore and was now fully aware who had attempted to console her. She blushed deeply and hid her face once more.

"Er…" Harry didn't really know what to say, but was aware that it was him who had to ease the girls embarrassment. He understood loss, but the ache that some kids felt when they had to separate from their parents until Christmas or even next summer was a mystery to him. Homesickness he only felt while at the Dursley's waiting for another year at Hogwarts to start. "We all miss home when we're away from it."

To make her feel better, he thought of an example and of course, his example was probably the best family he knew: "Look. My friend Ginny once told me that all her brothers – there are six of them – and she herself had had terrible cases of homesickness within their first month at Hogwarts. One of her brothers, my best friend, wanted to deny it, but I remember very well that he was very quiet and subdued about three weeks after school started. And imagine that, three of his older brothers were actually attending to Hogwarts at the time. I guess you're alone here?"

A small smile had formed on her lips, when she was listening to Harry's words and she nodded: "I have a sister who's four years younger than me."

For a moment there was silence until the first year talked again: "So, it's okay?"

Harry smiled at her: "It's a good thing to miss them," then an idea came up, "You know, my friend wrote to his parents when he was homesi... when he missed them. Maybe you should do the same. Tell them how you're doing, ask them to send you something from home, something little to put in your pocket and that you can touch when you feel a little lost." Unconsciously his hand slipped in his own pocket, where he fingered a piece of Sirius' mirror that he had broken last summer. Magic not being allowed during the holidays, Harry had taken one of the pieces and smoothed the edges of the glass with a file from his uncle's tool box. Since that day, the reminder of his own stupidity but nevertheless last gift of his godfather was in his pocket.

Being lost in thought, he almost missed the reaction of the young witch. She looked at him as if he had just had the greatest, most brilliant idea in the world. She didn't hug him, but he was sure, if she hadn't seen him today for the first time, she would have.

She jumped to her feet, using her sleeves to wipe the tears from her face.

"That's a great idea," a wide smile plastering her face, "I'll do just that. Why didn't I think of this before? I have to go. Thanks for consoling me. I'll see you! Bye!" With that the small child ran and almost stumbled through the corridors, her feet bringing her directly towards her common room in the dungeons. Harry smiled. It was nice to see a Slytherin that didn't hate his guts.

His smile grew wider and a wonderful feeling spread from his chest. It took him a moment until he realized that it was happiness and relief, both untainted and wonderful. For a moment he had to close his eyes, he was so overwhelmed by those feelings, emotions that he hadn't felt in their shier beautiful innocence for what seemed a very long time.

Still smiling he again was walking towards the Great Hall, when a silky voice stopped him: "Do you enjoy seeing my students distressed, Potter?" Even if the deep voice hadn't been absolutely characteristic for the tall man approaching, the loathing in the tone when calling his name said it all.

Severus Snape looked hat him coldly. This time however, Harry felt so great that the only two people that could have wiped away this feeling were Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange and luckily, both of them weren't here.

Besides, the thing he had realized and seen during the summer…

As if he hadn't heard him, he asked: "It's a wonderful day, isn't it, Sir?"

Snape frowned at him, but didn't say anything. Harry looked to the spot, where Cara had turned around the corner and out of his sight.

"She misses her parents and will now write them a letter. To come back to your question, Sir, no, I did not enjoy seeing her distressed, but I was glad." When he saw Snape opening his mouth either to deduct house points or a scathing comment, he explained, "I'm glad to see that not all innocence is lost. There are still children around who miss their parents, not because they're dead or the kids worry about them, but because they miss them simply for not being here with them. That is a good thing. Have a nice day, Sir."

Harry turned around, this time actually arriving at the Great Hall. He opened the doors and saw his friends immediately turn towards him. For a moment they seemed worried, but when they saw the happy face of their friend, they smiled as well and thought that, wherever Harry had been, it didn't matter, he was happy and that was the important thing.

Harry waved at them und thought, still walking towards them: "Sometimes…Sometimes, Life is good."

* * *

Hallo, everybody!

This is my first fanfiction in the Harry-Potter-verse and my very first one written in English.

It took quite a lot of courage to publish this story here, so please be gentle. Constructive criticism is always welcome, however.

If there is one person interested to be my Beta I would be most grateful since I want to improve my writing.

This story is meant to be a Prequel to the story "Finding Parental Care", ideas for that story are already forming in my mind, but it depends on you: Are you interested or would it be best if I just go back to reviewing but not writing?

Please tell me what you're thinking.


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